


I Can Sing us Home Again

by ClaraBFangirl



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, In Statement Form, It's Evan, JonMartin is only mentioned, M/M, The Lonely - Freeform, but it's canon yall, love saves you from the lonely!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraBFangirl/pseuds/ClaraBFangirl
Summary: In the Lonely, there is a fragment of a man. He has a story to tell.





	I Can Sing us Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> I have been severely emotional about Evan Lukas and Naomi Herne since episode 13 and then Peter barely even name-dropped him, so I wrote 5 pages of Evan's ghost meeting Jon in the Lonely before Jon vibe checks his brother off this mortal plane.  
(is this canonically possible? I don't know. I don't care.)  
Title taken from Come Home With Me (Reprise) from Hadestown.

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS]

"Why are you-"

Oh, hello.

"Wha- who are you?"

I see Peter's back at it. How's he doing, out there?

"I- he's in here. I think. Who are you?"

Is he? ... he didn't come to visit.

"...You're Evan Lukas."

...yes. And you're the Eye's. But you're new, I think. Not that old lady.

"You're dead."

I am. Most of me.

"Most of you?"

What's your name?

"Ar- Jon."

Hi, Jon. I won't ask you how well you know the Lukases, because you're here, which means you either found something out or you got on Peter's nerves, and unfortunately very soon it will not make a difference. What I will ask is this: how did you know who I was?

"Th- there was a statement about you. Naomi Herne."

...Oh.

Is she okay?

"Sh- it was- years ago, but-"

I understand. Thank you, Jon.

"Evan. How are you here?"

You know, I- oh. Wait. 

You're the new Archivist.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to Compel."

No, it's- all right, a little odd, but. I don't know the answer, so the question is moot. Hey, you keep looking around. Going somewhere?

"I- Peter has M- someone important. Here. I need to find him."

Oh. I'm sorry. You're the first person to see me, actually. I'd like- well. Can I walk with you? I haven't spoken with anyone in years.

"I... suppose."

Hey, thank you. I'll help you look for my brother, it's just- ah, I wasn't meant for this, wandering this place forever.

You mind if I talk? I hear talking to a man like you could really help to settle the mind. 

"Do you... do you mean a statement?"

Is that what the Eye calls them? Sure, then. A statement.

"Right. Ah- Statement of Evan Lukas, regarding..."

House Lukas, my death, and... Naomi Herne.

"Statement recorded direct from subject. Statement begins."

I didn't want to pull her into this.

I know what my family is like, I've known my whole life that I was born to walk the Lonely path, even if that was the last thing I wanted for myself. To be a part of the Lukas family is to face loneliness with a smile, something Peter always managed to do so well. But me? I was never like that.

At first I was disappointed. Like there was something wrong with me, like wanting to know the name of the boy who lived down the street was a betrayal of the cause. But then the urge got too strong, and the boy's name was Jimmy Klein, and we played together for 6 weeks before my father came home from sea and the police were at Jimmy's house taking a statement from his parents, and I never saw Jimmy again, and that's how I knew.

Growing up was a series of rebellions, desperate attempts to keep myself social despite my parents' close eye. For the most part, that meant talking at my siblings until my eyes burned and they threatened to lock me in a closet for awhile. Then I would sneak upstairs to a computer I had saved up for whenever my parents left their wallets around, spend the night on forums and message boards, hell, I'd resort to chatbots if no one was awake online, anything to keep me talking to someone. I couldn't give in to the Lonely. I could see that now, now that every time I closed my eyes I could see Jimmy- screaming, crying, still alive, somewhere. Someday, I was going to find a way to get him out. I was going to find a way to get the both of us out. That was all that mattered. 

And then I met her.

Naomi.

God, she was beautiful. Quiet, when I saw her first, but so full of life, so brilliant, and by the time I'd stood up to follow the interviewer into the office I knew I wanted to be in that life with her. Meeting her, that first coffee after the interview, knowing that a woman like her existed in the world and was willing to spend an afternoon with me- I told Peter to lose my number, that night. I packed the rest of my things and brought them to my empty apartment and fell asleep with a smile on my face, and for once in sixteen years I dreamt of something other than Jimmy Klein.

Loving her was so easy. I was scared, at first, that it was too easy, that she was some terrible gift from the Forsaken, the bait that would hook me back, both of us trapped in the fog forever. Or that she was like my mother, twisting love into just another way to serve, ready to pull the color from my cheeks as soon as I gave in. 

I wasn't sure which I was more terrified of. 

I introduced her to my friends, did what I could to keep us both social. She wasn't good at it, but she was earnest, and she tried so hard to put herself out there, and I loved her more for every second.

Some people can't help being lonely, after all. She and I fought it off together.

The day she asked me to marry her was- I thought, for a minute there, that I had done it. I had escaped. The prospective guest list was empty of the name Lukas but full of life, of the friends we had made, together, and I was so happy, from the little silver band to lifting her into my arms and spinning her around in that kitchen just big enough for two, to telling our friends, to looking at the venue. I was going to take her name. I was never going to have to be a Lukas again.

I was even smiling when I got the call. Before I knew. Thought it was a joke, in fact. Couldn't understand how everything could crumble so quickly. But it can, and it did.

What was supposed to be our down payment on the venue went towards hospital bills. It's- horrible, maybe, but I wish it was a shorter death. An accident may have been better. Because as it was, she watched me die slowly and painfully, and I watched her grief pull the Lonely around her like a shroud. I watched the thing I had fought to save her from wrap its fingers around her as I lay in my hospital bed and I couldn't say a word- the doctors thought I was delusional when I warned her about the fog, put me on meds that dulled me too much to speak, and all the while it came closer. 

I tried to get her to confide in our friends, make connections of her own, but I knew it wouldn't work. I couldn't save her, and that killed me just as much as my ancestor's dirty little genetic secrets. 

And I wish I had died Evan Herne.

I don't remember much, to be honest with you- Jon, was it? Right. I don't remember much about Death, Jon, but I do remember the church. The mausoleum that they shoved her towards- those people, my relatives, throwing the woman I loved- my life- into this...place. 

I was watching, somehow. Perhaps it was the ritual, or the last gift the Lonely gives my family- eternity in this place, our sanctuary, but I saw them send her away, and I saw them send the fog after, and then- I felt myself begin to slip away.

I had a choice. I could fade, I could help my family, or I could stay and help her. I didn't know, then, that if I chose one the others would be... unreachable, forever. But knowing what I know now... I would have still done it. 

I reached out to her, told her where to go. I guided her out and I finally, really truly, set her free from the Lukases and all we mean. I haven't seen her since. I'm glad. It means she might have made it. Made some connections. I'm so proud of her.

I found Jimmy, too, but- well. I was too late to save him long before I even left home. I try not to think about him.

So now I'm here. Forever, I'm assuming. And my brother has dragged your...

"My- Martin. Not my Martin. Just- Martin"

Right, just-Martin, and he's got him down here?

"Yes."

Well, Jon. You'd best get to him. You'll find Peter by the shore, probably. He's... like that.

"I- thank you, Evan."

Of course. Be rather hypocritical of me, to keep a man from the person he loves. Don't you agree?

"...yes, I suppose it would be."

And, Jon?

"Yes?" 

I think I'm leaving now. For good, this one. So thank you. For listening.

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Thank you for your story."

Do you think there's something after death, Jon?

"I- I don't know."

I rather hope not. But if there is- well. I'll see you there someday.

...

Your recorder's on, by the way.

"Oh, shit-"

[RECORDING ENDS].

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing my habit of only writing one work per fandom I enter, as is Traditional.  
I'm on Tumblr @welcometotheorbitinghotel  
And, hey- thanks.


End file.
